


let's call it a day

by fishyspots



Series: prompts [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, Lots of Cabaret Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/pseuds/fishyspots
Summary: Patrick gets home late after Cabaret rehearsal. At least David's there, even if he's asleep.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822303
Comments: 28
Kudos: 240





	let's call it a day

**Author's Note:**

> soft prompts just keep coming! this one was an anonymous prompt for "late nights." the prompter said it would be "v cute," and i hope i did that justice!
> 
> title is from lullaby of broadway from 42nd street.

Patrick winced at the creaking sound his apartment door made as it opened. He really had to see about getting that fixed. Later. At the moment, it was already late—later than he told David he’d be back from top-secret dance rehearsal—and his legs were screaming at him. If he didn’t die of embarrassment wearing his Emcee costume in front of Stevie for dress rehearsals next week, then the choreography would surely do him in.

The light was still on, which was a good sign. Patrick hadn’t been sure David would wait up for him. David stopped responding to his texts a few hours earlier; he didn’t even know if David was still at his apartment. But the alternative was the motel, so Patrick felt pretty good about his chances. 

There was a lump under the covers. David was here, at least, even if he was asleep. Despite himself, Patrick felt his shoulders slump. He was excited about the show. It had been years since the last time he’d acted, and he loved the source material. And he and Stevie had almost perfected their Mrs. Rose drinking game. But he hadn’t had dinner with David, or watched a movie with David, or curled up on the couch with David, in over a week.

“David?” He didn’t bother whispering. Out of either self-preservation or deeply rooted stubbornness, David was a deep sleeper. When Patrick had first moved into the apartment, he amused himself testing the limits of his boyfriend’s sleep. Once, he’d run the garbage disposal for nearly two minutes, and David didn’t even move.

Patrick dropped his bag on the floor. It thudded hard against the floor. He kicked it to the side, knowing that half-awake David had tripped over less on his way to the bathroom in the light of early morning.

He left the light on—just for a minute, just until he got ready to join David in bed—and made his way over to David. Even his boyfriend’s head was under the covers. Patrick pulled the blankets down, just a little. Just enough to see David’s face. He missed it. David’s features were slack with sleep, and Patrick loved the curve of his mouth and the shadows his lashes cast on his cheeks. Patrick tugged a bit more, then frowned. David was still wearing the same sweater he’d put on that morning. His phone, too, was resting facedown on the pillow next to him instead of plugged into his charger on the kitchen counter.

He sat—didn’t jump, definitely didn’t use any more force than usual—on the bed next to David. He checked, and David was still asleep. He ran his fingers through David’s hair, which was soft and curling just a little against the pillow. Then he tugged a little. 

David sniffed and rolled to face him. His eyes blinked open. _Finally_.

“Hey,” Patrick said softly. “Did I wake you?”

David hummed and squinted up at him. “Time?”

Patrick winced. “One. We got done pretty late, and then Stevie wanted to run lines super quickly.”

“How many new rules for the drinking game?” David asked. He sat up and arranged the pillows behind him into a better position.

“None, we really did run lines.”

David kept looking at him.

“Two,” Patrick conceded. He leaned against the headboard next to David. “But they’re really good ones. One’s about how often your mom asks me to thrust, if that means anything to you.”

“You should know by now that you thrusting _always_ means something to me.”

“Point.” Patrick laughed. “When did you decide to give up and just go to bed?”

David’s nose scrunched up. He looked up at the ceiling, avoiding Patrick’s gaze.

Patrick could feel the smile spreading across his face.

“Because you didn’t fall asleep while you were trying to wait up for me.”

“Nope,” David said quickly. “Definitely did not. Chose to go to bed. Mm hm.”

“And you just forgot to plug in your phone coincidentally.”

“Absolutely. I was reading on it. Happens sometimes.”

Patrick had never seen it happen.

“And sleeping in your sweater?” He asked innocently. “That was a choice, too?”

“Fuck, that’s going to be wrinkled,” David said, eyes darting to his sweater.

Patrick nudged David’s shoulder with his own. “You were trying to wait up for me.” He tried to keep the gloating out of his voice. He failed. 

“It’s not my fault that we’ve barely seen each other this week!” David said, throwing his hands up. He paused. “Not that I think it’s _your_ fault, either. I’m excited to see the show.”

He grimaced. “I’m excited to see your thrusting and Stevie’s singing in the show,” he amended.

“I get it.”

David huffed. “This is so dumb. I even made tea to stay awake! I couldn’t finish it, though. Gross. You have gross tea here.”

Patrick craned his neck to look and felt something catch in his throat at the sight of a half-full mug sitting on the floor next to David’s side of the bed.

He pressed his lips against David’s cheek and blinked back tears. Overtired. He was overtired and overemotional and he loved his boyfriend so much.

“Well, I’m sorry I was so late that you fell asleep,” he said. “Let me change, and we can go to sleep.”

“No, take your time.” David got out of bed, picked up his mug, and went into the kitchen. “I’m going to make coffee for me and gross tea for you. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days.”

The lump in Patrick’s throat was back. He should really get some sleep—if he got sick, Mrs. Rose might actually kill him.

“If that’s, um. Okay.” David’s voice was a little quieter now. “Sorry, it’s super late, you’ve been busy all night—"

“Honey in the tea, please.”

David nodded and smiled a little, in that infuriating way he did when he thought he could successfully hide it. 

“Honey,” he confirmed. “Then you can tell me more about this thrusting.”


End file.
